Gemotions

The afternoon light streamed into David's kitchen, painting stripes across the linoleum floor. He leaned against the counter, absently stirring his lukewarm coffee. His limbs felt leaden, and his thoughts wandered aimlessly.

A shadow fell across the doorway. It was Mr. Peterson, his neighbour, a small glint of metal on his front tooth.

"David! Mind if I run this past you?" Mr. Peterson held up a drawing, apparently for a fence design.

David gave a long, slow blink. The sketches seemed to blur before his eyes. All he could think about was finding a dark place to rest.

"Looks...fine," he managed, his voice a low monotone. He wanted to escape, to disappear into the quiet.